


In Atrophy

by melodramatic



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Clinical Depression, M/M, Please Forgive me, Self-Harm, Suicide, stay safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-01 16:18:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodramatic/pseuds/melodramatic
Summary: Tyler was young (and free), but Josh was young and free





	

The sun said goodnight, but Tyler did not. The moon greeted him fiercely, and he could close his curtains, but he couldn't escape it's gaze. It was not only watching, but waiting for him and it beckoned his mistakes from the back of his mind.

 _You should've killed yourself when you had the chance_ , it whispered.

Tyler shook his head. Life was precious. His life was precious. He knew that.

(He knew he would fall eventually, but he knew it wouldn't be tonight).

So he turned the volume on the TV louder and tucked his knees close to his chest. The only sound in his empty apartment was the canned laughter coming from a show that he didn't know the name of. 

_No one will miss you._

Tyler's breathing was heavy. Tears stung the back of his eyes. He got up shakily and rummaged through his vanity, popping the cap open and taking a few sleeping pills. He just wanted to sleep, to be surrounded by nothing.

He sat back on the couch and didn't turn the TV off before he fell asleep.

(/)

Tyler walked into _Café de Crossaint_ , his eyes bleary and dry. He went straight into the employee room, and took an energy drink from the vending machine.

"Hey," one of his co-workers, Josh, greeted. He was newer than Tyler, but the customers already liked him more: he was extremely personable, had candy-colored hair, and was always making someone laugh. Tyler would've been jealous, had he had any sort of motivation left in his system.

Tyler nodded back at him in greeting. 

"You doing okay?" Josh asked.

He wanted to laugh.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just have a headache."

"Ugh, I hate headaches. They're the worst. Do you want some Tylenol?" He offered, taking a travel-sized bottle of Tylenol out of his locker.

Tyler shook his head, "No, thanks, I'm good."

Josh looked at him for one more second, before putting the bottle back into his locker. 

"Well, I'll see you out there," He said.

"Yeah," Tyler said. 

Josh was visibly intrigued by Tyler, but Tyler knew it would soon fade, as it did with everyone he came to associate himself with. He was invisible, he was unseen, he was unloved, he was okay.

Tyler looked up at the ceiling, at the little faces that formed in the cheap paint. They reminded him of the moon, so he looked away.

He grabbed his hat and put it on, heading out of the employee room.

It wasn't busy, which Tyler was thankful for. It would give him plenty of time to be alone and talk to as few people as possible. 

So he started working in the back, mixing batters and putting multiple baked goods in and out of the oven. People walked in and out of the kitchen, some greeting him, and others ignoring him completely. It was fitting.

"Tyler," someone called to his right.

His head snapped toward the sound, the motion almost bringing him pain.

"Josh is going to work in the back with you today," His manager told him, "I need you to train him."

Josh looked excited and Tyler was immediately put off by the idea of not working alone, but then again, he always seemed to get along with Josh. Plus, he could use the help for when it got busy.

"Okay," He said, continuing to add ingredients to his mixture.

"Make sure you communicate with him, alright?" His manager said, leaving the room.

It was just the two of them, if you didn't include the ovens that spoke to Tyler every time he fed them another item. Tyler didn't say anything, though, he just let Josh survey the kitchen for a few minutes. 

"So," Josh said, grabbing a whisk, "What're we making?"

Tyler shrugged, "I'm just finishing up the muffins right now."

Josh nodded.

Silence, silence, ringing-in-the-ear silence.

"Is there anything you need me to do?" He asked.

Tyler sighed and looked up at him. He wasn't trying to be rude - in fact, he thought Josh was quite nice and he could even venture to say that he enjoyed Josh's company, but he was so used to being left alone that another's precence was almost uncomfortable. So, to keep him busy (and his attention off of Tyler), Tyler gave him several menial tasks: check the oven temperature, set the timer, and, "even though the timer is on you still have to check the items every few minutes to make sure they're cooking properly."

Josh was attentive, and took every one of the instructions to heart, which Tyler found somewhat endearing. When they made eye contact at one point, Josh smiled sweetly at him, and Tyler immediately turned around to check on the muffins. All in all, though, it was nice. It was comfortable amd relatively quiet, besides the occasional chatter that Josh stirred up.

When the clock read 5pm, Tyler peeled off his gloves.

"Alright, well, I'm going home. I'll see you around," Tyler said, as he grabbed his car keys.

"Oh - hey, Tyler?"

Tyler turned around.

"Do you think I could get your number?"

Tyler raised an eyebrow. He wanted to ask why, but he knew he'd scare any chance he had of making a friend right off if he showed too much of his actual, depraved self.

He briefly thought of how long they'd been working together. It had been a few weeks, actually. And the entire time, Tyler could not recall a single experience in which he was with Josh and unhappy. The boy knew exactly how to make him laugh, and even when the room was silent and he caught Josh staring at him, he wasn't entirely uncomfortable.

"Sure," He said, watching Josh punch in the series of numbers.

"Sick, thanks. I'll call you."

Tyler nodded and headed out of the door and into his car. He he had an odd sensation spinning around in his chest, making him re-think all of his dialouge with Josh from that day. But when he got back to his house, the sensation dissapated. 

He was alone again.

Alone with his thoughts, his actions, his feelings or lack thereof. He tried to dissmiss the things he felt creeping up his spine, leaving goosebumps on his skin. He made dinner, he took a shower, and put on his favorite _Friends_ episode, but it was there in the back of his mind the entire time.

And then night fell.

Night fell, and so did Tyler's inner resolution to be strong. He crumbled, as he so often did. He wanted to be strong - he so badly wanted to just get through one night without his demons coming out of the walls and pinning him down, shoving thoughts and actions down his throat. He wanted to be able to get through one night without having a severe breakdown, and falling apart completely, coming only three pills short of an overdose, or half an inch short of "too deep."

Nevertheless, he fell apart completely with a blade to his wrist, and with small flecks of blood on the floor. He fell apart to the voices inside him chanting:  _YOU HAVE NO ONE, YOU HAVE NO ONE_

And they called him out on all of his bad deeds. The walls screamed, his head was about to burst with pressure, he sank to his knees and his eyes burned with tears.

He was tired, he was hurt, he wanted it all to end. He just wanted to feel nothing. 

He was exhausted.

One more deep cut to the wrist and he collapsed onto the carpet, his entire body still except for his arm which began to convulse. It burned but it was something. Something was better than the nothing he always seemed to feel. 

His phone chirped.

_[Unkown number]: Hey Tyler it's Josh! I forgot to give you my number earlier to here it is :)_

He didn't answer. He was dizzy, and if Josh only knew the state he were in at the moment.

But he didn't.

No one did.

Because Tyler lived alone, in every sense of the word.

He didn't pick himself up from the carpet. He watched his blood slowly but surely flow from his wrist, making tiny dots on the flooring. He closed his eyes and hoped that this time it'd be enough to take his life away.

(/)

It wasn't enough (it was never enough).

Tyler woke up the next morning, an ugly brown stain on the carpet, and smeared all over his wrist. His brain was fuzzy, but it wasn't anything he hadn't experienced before.

He checked his phone. He had three missed calls from his boss, and one from an unkown number that he immediately recognized as Josh's from last night. 

He put the number in his contacts, and then looked at his text messages.

_Todd (Boss): Tyler where are you? Your shift started over an hour ago_

_Todd (Boss): I guess you're not coming in today?_

_Todd (Boss): Call me when you get the chance_

_Josh: Is everything okay?_

Tyler typed out an "I'm sorry, I got really sick. I'll be there tomorrow," to his boss and a relatively similar one to Josh. The only one that answered was Josh.

_Josh: Aw :( I hope you feel better. Let me know if you need anything._

Despite sleeping far more hours than he usually did, Tyler still felt exhausted. His heart was weighed down, and every time he caught sight of how ugly his wrist he become, he wanted to vomit. He felt gross and used. Used by his own mind. How poetic. How poetic, indeed.

He took a shower and scrubbed himself with a loofa pad, not scrubbing any less at his wrist. The barely-formed scars broke open, and blood appeared once more. The blood mingled with the shower water, and he watched as the stream of crimson and the stream of clear become one before dancing down the drain together.

He took a deep breath.

His chest was heavy.

His lungs were heavy.

He wanted to feel nothing: to become nothing.

He stepped out of the shower, and put on a hoodie and black jeans, then headed up to his roof.

_YOU ARE NOTHING, YOU ARE NOTHING_

He stood atop his roof, the uneven tiles cutting into his feet, and he was glad he didn't wear shoes.

_YOU HAVE NO ONE, YOU HAVE NO ONE_

He didn't know how many hours had passed since he woke up, but the sun was setting, and it was a beautiful sight. Tyler wanted to fall right into it. He wished his blood could paint the sky the way the sun did. He wanted everyone to see the dark shades and the obscure shapes he had become. 

_WORTHLESS, WORTHLESS, WORTHLESS_

His cheeks were pinched red from the sharp wind. This time, he was going to make sure it was enough.

His phone rang. 

"Hello?" He answered.

"Hey, Tyler. I-it's Josh. Um, is that you? On top of your roof?"

Tyler didn't flinch. He wasn't bothered.

"Yup. How can you see me?"

"I live right across the street from you. Remember?"

Tyler nodded. How could he forget?

"Oh, yeah, I remember."

"What are you doing up there?"

Tyler looked across the street, and saw Josh peering through the window. Josh waved, but Tyler did not.

He looked down at the ground. It was far from where he was. Much farther than he had anticipated, actually. He looked up at the sky, and the sun seemed to be setting quicker, as if it was demanding him to get his show on the road.

He looked back down at Josh, "Are you working tomorrow?"

Josh paused for a second, "Yeah. Why?"

Tyler shrugged, "No reason. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

He didn't wait for Josh's response before he hung up the phone. Silence ensued, and Tyler was trapped. The sun screamed his name going down, and the moon tugged at his soul from where it sat high in the sky.

For just a second, he wondered if he would float up if he jumped. He wondered if he would be able to meet the moon, sit on a star, and maybe formally introduce himself to the sun. It sounded happy, though, and he knew he was destined to a fate far worse than that.

But there was no way to know for sure.

And Josh walked out of his house just in time to watch Tyler test his theory.

He did not float, he did not meet the moon, he did not meet the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Title was taken from _Sedated_ by Hozier
> 
> Thank you all for reading. Feel free to leave any questions, comments, concerns. 
> 
> Stay alive, friends


End file.
